Felt so good this morning. As much sleep as I wanted, and it was still only 9am. Today we went to the big charity shop in North End to pick up the 2 bits of furniture we bought yesterday, and to acquire the pumpkin-on-a-batplate that I'd seen. But as is so often the way, we accidentally ended up by the tunnels and messed about for an hour. This is Peronne Road footbridge over the creek and motorway: it's great for pooh-sticks with a twist: you use the yellow-white apples from the tree you can see on the left of the picture. There were only a couple left but we threw them in from the bridge anyway. I can also report that rose hips sink and are therefore no good for pooh-hips. 
Gradually we wandered back along the wooded ramparts and found a broken-down brick wall behind a car dealership and used an old car roofrack to climb down. We scurried like secret agent rats all the way along the back of the old Hilsea Milk Depot and got back to the car and picked up the furniture.
No sooner had we delivered them to Jof than we drove away again to a bathroom shop which has lots of broken pallets piled high in a corner of their car park. We procured a carload of wood for the bonfire. Once we'd processed it all (detach all planks, hammer down nails, stack neatly in my playhouse) Jof and I destroyed the old TV stand. This wood was added to the pile.
Gradually we wandered back along the wooded ramparts and found a broken-down brick wall behind a car dealership and used an old car roofrack to climb down. We scurried like secret agent rats all the way along the back of the old Hilsea Milk Depot and got back to the car and picked up the furniture.
No sooner had we delivered them to Jof than we drove away again to a bathroom shop which has lots of broken pallets piled high in a corner of their car park. We procured a carload of wood for the bonfire. Once we'd processed it all (detach all planks, hammer down nails, stack neatly in my playhouse) Jof and I destroyed the old TV stand. This wood was added to the pile. 
In the afternoon we cycled down to the seafront and saw the huge traffic jams leaving the site of the great south run. BethsDad did the run again but he'd gone by the time we got there. Against the stiff wind, we powered our way west to the marines museum where a digger had gouged a massive hole in the shingle beach. The sea was rough and we played wave-chase inside the fenced-off area. I liked the immense susurration as each wave receded and a million pebbles went bouncing down the slope. Then onwards (but not upwards) past more traffic jams to the pier, where I ate my customary half an ice cream and watched the fishermen catching seaweed. In fact the sea was so rough it had washed away half the beach: sand was exposed instead of the usual 30 yards of shingle. The storm surge had deposited seaweed and pebbles onto the road and the corniche pavement was bumpy in places with shingle rocks. 
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